


Call me Izhmael

by Antonio_Calavera



Category: Sunless Sea
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-27
Updated: 2015-09-27
Packaged: 2018-04-23 15:53:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4882852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Antonio_Calavera/pseuds/Antonio_Calavera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Here follows my brief first impression of the steamship Providence and her crew, long before I ever heard of the Sacred River or walked the fallen cities.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Call me Izhmael

I had been given to listening often to tales of the strange and fearless men and women who sail the sunless sea. As a child, I had often enjoyed the dark tales of the lightless ocean that yawned across the enormous cavern beneath the world we knew.

Beneath the earth and upstream of hell, this ocean was plied by those whose fears were inverted. It was said that to sail the benighted abyss one had to be more afraid of the light than the darkness, to be always fleeing the civilized world. It was the only way, they said, that one could choose to face the terror of the deep beneath the deep.

And so it was that I came to be familiar with the Providence and her crew. I fled the surface world and its heartaches which I will not mention here, and came at last to Wolfstack docks, on the shores of Fallen London.

The Providence was an old and battered Lampad-class cutter. A steamship, for no winds blow on the sunless sea. It was smaller than the other vessels, cramped, yet suffused with colored light, for her captain had hung strings of Christmas lights all about the ship. The foredeck held the expected deck gun, small enough that there was much room near the bow. There were great gashes in the hull, all about the ship, and many of the corridors were abandoned and dusty.

Her captain and first mate made quite the impression. He wore a dark cape with a chain and an enormous collar, and a tricorne hat that made the collar look subtle and small by comparison. Pale and underfed in appearance, he nevertheless radiated an aura of confidence.

His first mate was... something else. She wore red, of course.

They had need of a chief engineer. I had need of work, and oblivion besides. I signed up, but only after they made me read the contract twice, explaining with great care to me that yes, there really was a blood tax expected of the crew. When I asked why, the first mate smiled at me as if that would explain everything.

If I had been sober enough to see her teeth, it would have.

The engine was surplus military, discordantly clean and modern. The ship's mascot was a lethargic cat who spent much of the time asleep. The food was simple and filling, the bunker filled with good quality coal.

In the months to come, I saw little of the crew. The two melancholy women who never let go of each other's hands, the well-dressed ghost who played the violin, the wheelchair-bound mermaid who could not bear to look at the ocean, all were quiet, and this suited me just fine.

The Providence boasted an excellent library, and I whiled away many an evening listening to the ghostly violin while reading to my heart's content. Entertainment seemed to be the province of the first officer, who persuaded all of us to dance with her, even the mermaid.

Perhaps she felt guilty about the bite marks she was leaving on our necks, though she would never admit it, but she made a point of speaking to each of us on a regular basis, and from her I learned many stories that were not in the books.

She danced barefoot and wore red.


End file.
